


The First Day is the Easiest

by Ghost_in_the_Hella



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: After The Storm, Angst, Gen, Post-Canon, sweary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella
Summary: You force yourself to stop thinking about it, because if you think about it then it’ll be real, and you can already feel something crumbling inside. You focus on the road ahead, the path that’s improbably clear through all the rubble and debris, as though cleared by an invisible hand. No bodies that you can see, so it’s easy to pretend. It’s always easier to pretend when you don’t have to see the bodies.---Immediately post-Episode Five, Chloe's perspective.





	The First Day is the Easiest

The first day is the easiest. That’s not what you expect. The first day should be the worst, and everything should get easier from there.

Shock cushions you both, that first day. You know you should feel more than you do, but the feelings just aren’t there. The town is so devastated you feel like you’re driving through the set of a disaster movie. It doesn’t feel real. If it felt real, you wouldn’t be able to keep moving. You’d be curled up in a ball in the middle of the ruined street, crying for your mother who’s probably now as dead as… well, everyone you ever cared about apart from Max, come to think of it.

You’re surprised by how well Max handles it. You, at least, have lost everything before. Twice. You’re hardened to it, or so it seems while the shock still dulls the enormity of it all. What has Max ever lost? _You _,__ apparently, over and over again, according to her. That must have been pretty traumatic, or she wouldn’t have done… _this_.

You force yourself to stop thinking about it, because if you think about it then it’ll be real, and you can already feel something crumbling inside. You focus on the road ahead, the path that’s improbably clear through all the rubble and debris, as though cleared by an invisible hand. No bodies that you can see, so it’s easy to pretend. It’s always easier to pretend when you don’t have to see the bodies.

Oh, god, Rachel.

You grip the wheel and keep your eyes on the road. You try not to look at the buildings as you drive past. You try not to think about anything. You should be good at that by now. It’d be easier if you had some weed. Or a drink. Anything to turn your mind off, really.

Where the hell are the first responders, anyway? The thought pricks at your mind as you pass ruin after ruin after ruin, trying not to remember what these buildings looked like when they were whole, the people who lived in them… Doesn’t anybody care? Didn’t anybody live long enough to--

You clamp your mind down on the thought, cutting it off. You start talking to Max; you don’t know what about. Something. Anything. Cram the void with words. It’s what you do best. Talk to keep from thinking. From feeling anything. Your hands are shaking on the wheel, but neither of you talks about that.

Once you make it out of town, it’s amazing how normal everything seems. So… untouched. People walk their dogs. Browse in shop windows. Live their normal fucking lives.

Assholes.

Eventually you stop someplace to eat. You want to keep driving, but Max makes you stop. Maybe she did notice the shaking hands after all. You stop for her, because after everything she did for you, you suppose that it’s the literal least you can do for her. No diners, though. You make her promise that. No diners.

That’s alright with her. You’ve both had enough of diners for one lifetime.

A fast food joint. You’re shaking like a junkie now. You don’t notice it until Max puts a jacket over you. You’re not sure if it’s still the shock, or if it’s the shock wearing off and the horror setting in. You eat… something. Your eyes are focused on the table in front of you, the weird, hypnotic pattern printed in its surface. You can’t taste what you’ve eaten. It leaves your fingers greasy. Max seems pleased that you’ve eaten something. You’re glad that you can do that much for her. The food seems to go down fine, but when you go to the bathroom you surprise yourself by vomiting it all up so violently you nearly smack your head on the toilet.

What an unglamorous way that would be to go, you think. Not to mention ungrateful. Dead in a bathroom after all of that. Though you suppose Max would just turn back the clock again for you. And maybe she did. For all you know, you bashed your brain out on that toilet seat and she brought you back again. Again and again. How many times now?

How many times, Max?

You don’t mention it to her. She’d probably be upset that you threw up the food. You need to keep up your strength for her, somehow. You’re the wheel-man in this outfit. The captain of the ship. You owe it to her to stay alive.

You drive until it’s dark. Beyond dark. It feels like you’re driving through space. All those millions of dead stars, those beautiful, beautiful lies…

Fuck.

Max makes you pull over again. It’s time for sleep. You don’t think that you’re tired, but you fall asleep the moment you lay down. You sleep so hard, so deep you don’t even remember dreaming. Lucky. You must dream, though. You wake up and Max is holding you in a way you never knew you needed to be held. She seems embarrassed by it when you wake up. She says she wouldn’t have touched you without asking, but you were whimpering like a hurt puppy and wouldn’t stop until she put her arm around you. You believe her. You wish she’d keep holding you, but she lets go almost as soon as you wake up. Her warmth goes with her, and you feel utterly alone. Unanchored. Adrift.

You get up so you don’t have to linger in that feeling. Your muscles hurt, probably from being clenched all day. You’re surprised that you can feel the pain. The shock is all but gone by now. Bit by bit, your body and your mind return to you.

Goddamnit, Max.

You try to start walking, but it hits you in the chest like a two-by-four and pulls you up short. Everything. All of it. The storm. The buildings. The bodies you didn’t see but know were there. Rachel.

You drop to your knees and Max’s arms are around you again, but it’s not enough to hold you together. You shatter.

The first day is the easiest. It only gets harder from there.

**Author's Note:**

> This story marks my return to fanfic writing after a hiatus of more years than I care to mention.
> 
> I originally played Life is Strange a couple of years ago with my partner, after all of the episodes had already come out. It had a huge emotional impact on us, but I was pretty sure I never wanted to play it again. A few weeks ago we blazed through Before the Storm, and it just ripped our hearts open. We played through Life is Strange a second time, five episodes in four days. So now the fanfic floodgates are officially open, because goddamn is there a lot to process between these games.


End file.
